


i can’t read your mind (gotta say that shit)

by finding



Series: i don't want your body (but i hate to think about you with somebody else) [2]
Category: High School Musical: The Musical: The Series (TV)
Genre: M/M, big red is a cockblock, ej is a lifeguard, handjobs, it's really summer!, ricky is a bisexual disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24548995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finding/pseuds/finding
Summary: "No labels? So what, we aren’t boyfriends now after you blew me?” Ricky’s not sure where the question comes from. He doesn’t want to date EJ, not really. He kind of just wants to rile him up and then maybe suck him off on the hood of his stupid fucking Jeep.“Want me to take you out to dinner at the country club first, or are you gonna stop being pouty and come over here already?” EJ challenges.or: EJ is a lifeguard at the public pool, Ricky won't take off his shirt, and Big Red just wants to know what's going on with his best friend. Oh, and Ricky gives EJ a handjob in the parking lot.
Relationships: Ricky Bowen/E.J. Caswell
Series: i don't want your body (but i hate to think about you with somebody else) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1760380
Comments: 7
Kudos: 86





	i can’t read your mind (gotta say that shit)

**Author's Note:**

> hello! sorry this is so late— i think quarantine has made me even lazier than i was before. anyways, this is the sequel to my last story in this series, so i’d suggest reading that one first (i only have 3 published works so it’s not too hard to find on my page!) i miss going to the pool and spending time with my friends, so here’s 6000 words of summer porn and boys being hot and dumb. sorry there’s so much swearing, too. i’m in college, so i think i accidently write everyone like they’re a frat boy.
> 
> title from hot girl summer by doja cat, for obvious reasons

Summers in New Mexico sneak up on you. The seasons blur together, cold winter nights melting into the warm spring sun until suddenly, one day in June, the temperature shoots up to 90 and refuses to go down for two months. Ricky’s spent every summer with Big Red since he was born, probably. They skate downtown at night when no one is on the streets, strikeout with the girls who work summers at the Dairy Queen, and, of course, go swimming.

There’s a public pool they’ve been going to forever, right on the edge of the neighborhood they grew up in. Their neighborhood backs up to this really expensive one with huge tan brick house and red stucco roofs. Ricky’s not really sure why the pool’s even over here, cause most of these people have private ones in their backyards they can use anytime without having to pay $2.25 a day like the kids on the other side of the neighborhood.

Ricky would rather skate over to the pool— there’s this impossibly blue sky stretching above them right now, not a single fucking cloud in sight, and Ricky thinks Nini would probably write a song about it. It doesn’t matter, though, because he’s currently shoved in the backseat of Red’s car because, for some reason, Big Red’s kid sister needed to ride in the front seat.

“Can you turn the music down just a little?” Ricky asks. Nicki Minaj is blasting through the speakers, and it isn’t doing a lot for Ricky’s hangover. He can’t really remember what he drank last night, but with how much his head is pounding, Ricky’s pretty sure he made the cardinal mistake of mixing liquors.

“Uh, stupid question. The answer is no,” Big Red responds, not even looking at Ricky. He continues to drum his fingers on the steering wheel and raps along to the song under his breath. Ricky doesn’t ask how he knows all the words.

“I thought you liked Nicki,” Mia, Big Red’s sister, asks. She twists around in the seat and stares at him with these unnervingly large blue eyes.

Ricky kind of wilts under her gaze. He tells himself it’s because blue eyes freak him out. “Are you even old enough to listen to this?”

“I’m thirteen,” she says, unblinking. “I’m old enough to do a lot of things.” Ricky doesn’t even want to _know_ what that’s supposed to mean. He’s pretty sure Mia has a crush on him, and honestly it would be kind of cute if she wasn’t so fucking intense. Ricky just laughs nervously and fumbles with his seatbelt.

"Turn around and stop flirting with Ricky,” Big Red says, flicking the back of Mia’s head. “He’s going through a very tough time right now. Nini broke up with him last night,” he says, the last part in a mock whisper.

Ricky groans. “Are we telling everyone about that now?”

Mia turns from glaring at her brother to staring at Ricky again. “So are you looking for a new girlfriend now?”

He snorts against his will when she asks. “A girlfriend? Uh, not really.” _That’s a safe answer,_ he thinks, cause it’s not _really_ a lie. 

"Then what?” she presses. “Like, just a summer fling or something?”

“I guess,” he says and tries not to think about the implications of what a _summer fling_ would even look like. He doesn’t really want to flirt with girls or take them on dates or put in all the effort of telling them their pretty and special just to hook up. He tells himself not to think about EJ last night, and he _definitely_ doesn’t wonder if it will happen again.

“What kind of girls do you like?” she asks. “My friend Camille just broke up with Aaron because he went to the mall with Sophie, so I think she’s single now. And so am I because Tyler won’t carry my backpack in the hall anymore, and I’m bored of him.”

“Ricky likes normal girls who aren’t thirteen and just learned how to do algebra,” Red says. “You’re not his type.”

“Whatever,” she says, turning back around to face forward. She pulls out her phone and starts tapping at the screen. “My friends don’t like _skater boys_ anyways. They all say you dress weird and smell like weed.”

Big Red’s eyes go wide and he stares at Mia, shocked. “How the fuck do you know what weed smells like?”

“You drive me to school every day, dumbass, and I know you smoke in here. It stinks,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“I’m dead,” Big Red says, shaking his head. “I am absolutely deceased. Mom’s gonna kill me.”

Mia sighs. “Relax, I won’t tell her. You just owe me a favor someday.”

“I’m not setting you or one of your weird friends up with Ricky. That one with the bangs is freaky—I don’t like that way she looks at us.”

Mia and Big Red keep going back and forth in the front seat, and Ricky tries to tune it out. It’s annoying, but he finds their fights kind of endearing. Ricky’s an only child, and Red’s the closest thing he has to a brother.

Eventually, they make it to the pool. The parking lot is packed, but Big Red manages to squeeze his beat-up 2005 Honda into a corner spot under a tree. Mia takes off as soon as they park, mumbling something about finding her friends and meeting up later. Big Red digs a handful of quarters out of his pocket and puts it on the counter at the entrance gate. The girl working rolls her eyes before pulling them forward one-by-one with red nails so long that Ricky wonders how she can even unlock her phone. He doesn’t really understand girls, but, then again, he’s never claimed to.

The pool would be pretty fucking depressing if Ricky didn’t have so many fond memories attached to it. Weeds are growing through the cracks in the concrete, the grey chain link fence barely keeps skinny-dippers out at night, and the woven synthetic plastic of the pool chairs was probably red once but has been bleached white by the sun. It’s kind of gross and seedy and Ricky should probably make sure he has a tetanus shot before he takes his shoes off here and he fucking loves it nonetheless.

Or at least he _did_ until he sees EJ Caswell lounging in the lifeguard chair, decked out in black sunglasses and a red tank top that does absolutely nothing to cover his chest. It’s offensive and indecent and Ricky thinks he should probably go find Mia and her friends before they’re blinded by the light reflecting off EJ’s skin because— _Jesus_ , is he oiled up or something? No one’s skin naturally looks like that.

Ricky looks away and hopes EJ doesn’t notice him, instead walking towards a pair of open pool chairs near the fence. He sits down, his back to EJ, and starts searching in his bag for the sunscreen Red’s mom forced into it before they left. He looks up, ready to cajole his friend into putting some on because he thinks Red’s mom might ban him from hanging out with Ricky if he doesn’t, but Big Red isn’t anywhere near him. Instead, he’s chatting up Ashlyn at the concessions stand, probably trying to get a free Bomb Pop.

Ricky sighs maybe a bit too morosely and uncaps the bottle. He doesn’t really get sunburnt, but he figures it won’t hurt. And it means he has an excuse to stay on this pool chair facing directly _away_ from EJ. He avoids skin cancer and the possibly more life-threatening situation of dealing with EJ Caswell while sober—it’s a win-win situation.

“Need help getting your back, Bowen?” a voice asks from behind Ricky after a minute.

“Warn a guy before you sneak up on him next time,” Ricky says, trying to act like EJ’s question didn’t startle him, but he thinks the fact that he jumped nearly a foot in the air might betray otherwise. “Are you just looking for an excuse to get your hands on me again?” he deadpans, turning around to level EJ’s gaze.

EJ doesn’t respond and then, after a moment, his lips curve into a smirk. “Maybe,” he says, his tongue running over his teeth. It’s vulgar and should be off-putting and Ricky kind of hates how much it turns him on.

“Don’t you have better things to do than bother me?” Ricky asks. “Like stopping little kids from drowning or, I don’t know, making middle-aged moms consider running off with the pool boy?”

“Funny,” EJ responds without a note of humor in his voice.

Ricky turns back around to resume his task of slathering sunscreen onto his elbows. “Why are you lifeguarding anyways? It’s not like you need the money.”

EJ walks around and sits on the pool chair right next to Ricky’s before responding. He leans back on his hands and stretches his legs out, crowding them next to Ricky’s feet. “I need to stay in shape for fall.”

Ricky snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure sitting in that chair and staring at college girls while they tan is a really great workout.”

“Rude,” EJ responds, but there’s no bite to it. “I don’t know. Ashlyn seems to like working here, and she says I need to meet more people. And I like to be near the water.”

Ricky’s surprised at the vulnerability of that, of how EJ says things sometimes that tell him more than entire conversations. It unnerves him, makes him feel exposed. Ricky doesn’t really know how to respond when EJ says something honest, so he just mumbles a short _Yeah_ before focusing on his sunscreen task again.

He’s straining to get to the skin on the back of his neck near his collar when EJ leans forward, unexpectedly, and snatches the sunscreen bottle out of Ricky’s lap. “It would be funny how incompetent you are at normal human tasks if it wasn’t so sad.”

“Fuck off,” Ricky says, trying to grab the bottle back from EJ. He fails, unsurprisingly, and EJ moves behind Ricky to place one knee on the pool chair. EJ leans forward, and Ricky can feel the material of the chair dipping under their weight. It brings EJ’s thigh right up against his back.

“If you think you’re putting sunscreen on me, then you’re more fucking crazy than I thought,” Ricky says, but the effect might be lost on EJ because Ricky’s pretty sure his voice has gone up an octave.

“Grow up,” EJ retorts. “You’re not gay, right? So it’s not weird.”

Ricky doesn’t know how to interpret the tone EJ uses, but he doesn’t want to back down if it’s a challenge. He mumbles a _whatever_ and just waits for it to be over. He can deal with this, right? It’s just two guys being dudes, putting sunscreen on each other and not thinking about how they hooked up last night while heavily intoxicated. Absolutely normal.

What isn’t normal is the way EJ’s hands feel on Ricky’s skin as soon as they make contact on his neck. The sunscreen is a little cold, but it’s quickly warmed up by the heat of both of their skin. EJ radiates heat like a space-heater, probably from sitting in the sun for hours. His hands move slowly on Ricky’s skin, his thumbs pressing into the muscles of his neck before moving under Ricky’s shirt to his shoulders.

“Are you always this tense?” EJ asks. “No wonder you always had a stick up your ass at rehearsal.”

“Is this how you flirt with people?” Ricky asks before he thinks about the words. Immediately, he regrets saying it.

EJ snorts and resumes moving his hands further across Ricky’s shoulders. “Do you think I’m flirting with you?”

“I’m not sure,” Ricky says, measuring the words. “Do you give back rubs to all of your straight friends?”

“Just the ones I want to suck off,” EJ says lightly, and Ricky can’t help but laugh at that.

“You’ve got a fucking mouth on you, Caswell,” he says, and quickly corrects himself before EJ can catch onto the double meaning. “Your mom know you talk like that?”

“My mother is in Santa Barbara drinking cocktails while trying to ignore the fact that my dad is fucking the California intern,” EJ says with thinly veiled bitterness. “So, no. She doesn’t know.”

Ricky doesn’t really know what to say to that, but he feels bad for leading the conversation to such a touchy subject. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” EJ replies, his voice expressionless. “Some people aren’t meant to be together. And it means my house is empty right now,” he says, the last phrase more suggestive than Ricky wants to acknowledge.

Ricky has a retort ready for that, but it’s cut off by EJ removing his hands from Ricky’s neck and placing them under his shirt on his lower back instead. He starts kneading his thumbs into the smooth skin there and dips one under the waistband of his swim trunks. Ricky’s head falls forward just a little, his breath catching at the motion of EJ’s fingers. It’s indecent and kind of thrilling, the knowledge that anyone could see them right now.

“Not here,” Ricky says between his teeth, eyes closed.

“Then where, Bowen? Pool doesn’t close until eight,” EJ says, his voice low.

“I don’t—I’m not sure. You said your house is empty, right?”

EJ lets out a low chuckle. “Taking you home before the first date? I don’t know, I hoped you’d think I was more of a gentleman than that.”

Ricky twists his body and peers up at EJ between his lashes. “Because you were such a gentleman when you sucked me off on a lawyer’s desk last night and then left two seconds later,” he says a little petulantly.

EJ bites his lip and then his lips spread into a grin. “You’ve got a bite today, Bowen. Can’t say I don’t like it.”

“Tell me how much you like it _later,”_ Ricky responds, and with that, he pushes off the pool chair and starts to walk towards the concessions stand. He doesn’t get far before Big Red intercepts him and directs them back towards the chairs, Ricky’s protests falling on deaf ears.

“I want to swim,” Big Red says, stripping off his shirt. He nods in acknowledgment at EJ where he’s now leaning on the light pole near their chairs. “What’s up, EJ?”

“Not much, just enjoying the weather. Great views today,” EJ responds.

Big Red grimaces before turning around the Ricky and mouthing _What the fuck?_ Ricky shakes his head and looks away as if to say _No idea._

“You ready to swim?” Red asks.

Ricky nods and starts to pull at the hem of the white t-shirt he’s wearing before he remembers—there are about half a dozen hickeys littering his stomach that perfectly match EJ’s Caswell straight white teeth. “Uh, I think I might just stay here,” he says, and then after a moment adds, “and tan.”

Big Red raises his eyebrows. “You don’t tan. You’ve never tanned. Just take off your shirt and let’s go.”

Ricky’s fingers clench into a fist, and he steels himself. “No, really. I just want to stay here.”

“C’mon dude, just take off your shirt. You’re being weird,” Red says, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not being weird. You’re being weird,” he says, defensive.

EJ smirks at him and crosses his arms over his chest. “What’s the problem, Bowen? Too embarrassed to take your shirt off?”

Ricky _seethes_ at that because EJ knows why he can’t take it off, knows what Ricky is hiding underneath because he put them there. “I’m not embarrassed.”

“Then don’t be a fucking baby and just do it. Nothing we haven’t all seen before, right?” EJ taunts.

“Ricky, c’mon, let’s just go swim,” Big Red says, eyeing EJ suspiciously. He’s probably wondering why EJ is over here in the first place, much less why he’s spent so long talking to them. “I’d go by myself, but I think EJ might do something nefarious if I leave you two alone.”

Ricky kind of chokes when Red says that, and he wonders, just for a second, if Big Red might know what happened last night. After EJ left, Ricky stumbled out of the office and promptly passed out on a loveseat in the living room. Big Red found him an hour later and told him that they had to ditch ‘cause Ashlyn wasn’t feeling good and the cops had been driving past for the past ten minutes. Ricky was pretty sure Red didn’t suspect anything, either, or just assumed that Ricky had fallen asleep after he left the kitchen. EJ didn’t even make another appearance, as far as Ricky knew.

Nonetheless, Ricky really wans to get away from EJ right now and that leveled gaze he has trained on Ricky. “Fucking fine,” Ricky says, pulling at the hem of the white t-shirt he’s wearing. He throws it onto the pool chair next to him and starts walking towards the edge of the pool. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Big Red doesn’t follow him, instead reaching out a hand and grasping Ricky’s shoulder. He turns Ricky’s body so that he’s facing Red. “Dude, what _happened_ to you last night?”

Ricky feels his cheeks heat up and refuses to look at either of them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Big Red starts to poke at the dark spots marring his stomach before Ricky slaps his hand away. “You look like you got mauled by a tiger. Like, this is some Carol Baskin shit.”

Ricky wraps an arm around his waist to try to hide the hickeys, but it doesn’t really matter because EJ’s smirk has only grown and the look in his eye is kind of terrifying.

“Damn, Bowen, someone really did a number on you at the party last night,” he drawls, giving a Ricky a once-over that makes his skin burn.

“Fuck _off,”_ Ricky says through gritted teeth. He wishes he had a better comeback, but he’s pretty sure if EJ keeps looking at him like that he might do something he doesn’t want to do. Like punch EJ. Or kiss him. He’s not sure which.

Big Red is still staring at him with these wide eyes and has started trying to pry Ricky’s arm off his stomach. “Did you hook up with someone last night? Jesus, Ricky, I know I told you to find a rebound, but I honestly thought you would wait a little longer.”

“There’s no rebound. Nothing happened last night,” Ricky says, glaring at EJ over Big Red’s shoulder. If the words mean anything to EJ, his face doesn’t betray it. Ricky’s starting to think the smirk is a permanent feature of EJ’s face. “Let’s just go swimming.”

He starts walking past EJ, but he doesn’t get far before someone grabs his elbow. EJ’s fingers are tight around his arm, long and tan and fucking infuriating because when Ricky looks down at those fingers all he can see is them wrapped around his— _fuck,_ he really can’t think about that here.

Ricky doesn’t look at him, instead facing forward and trying in vain to wrench out of his grip. EJ leans down and puts his mouth close to Ricky’s ear.

“You look good like that, Bowen,” he says, voice low and breath hot on Ricky’s neck. “Your skin all marked up by me.”

Ricky’s heart is pounding, and he doesn’t really know if he can blame it on the heat. It’s four pm on a Saturday afternoon and the sun is beating down on them, but Ricky’s blood is boiling because the way EJ says those words, says _You look good,_ makes him furious and hot and really fucking turned on.

Ricky turns his head a few inches to the side so his nose is almost touching EJ’s. He looks him in the eye and speaks through his teeth. “Well too fucking bad because if you think you’re getting your teeth on me again, you’re fucking mistaken. Let go of me.”

With that, he pulls his arm out of EJ’s grip and starts to stalk away. Big Red runs after him, asking _What was that about?_ and _EJ looks like he’s gonna strangle someone, what did you say?_ but Ricky doesn’t answer. He dives into the deep end of the pool and starts swimming. He likes the feeling of the water under his hands, each stroke pushing his body through. All the sound is muffled and he can only see people’s legs, and Ricky wonders if he could hold his breath long enough for everybody to go home before he comes back up.

It’s not like Ricky doesn’t know he’s being difficult and pouty and kind of childish about the whole situation. The problem is that he knows, and he still can’t help it. EJ makes him feel unbalanced, off-kilter. It’s something about the way he stares at Ricky like he can see right through him. It’s how Nini used to look at him when he would lie to her, and it scares him. Ricky lets himself sink to the bottom of the pool and crosses his legs so he’s sitting. He closes his eyes and counts to 20, feels the way his chest starts to constrict. Right when he thinks it’s gonna be too much—that his mouth is almost forced open because his body wants to breathe—he shoots back up out of the water.

“Are you trying to drown yourself now?” Big Red asks, standing in front of Ricky with his arms crossed. “Cause that’s fine by me, I just need to know what song you want all the musical kids to sing at your funeral or else they’re going to pick something from _Rent,_ and that’s just not gonna cut it for my best friend’s wake.”

Ricky pushes his wet hair back and considers, not for the first time, investing in a headband. “If Carlos choreographs a tribute dance to _Seasons of Love,_ I will personally rise from the grave and send everyone home.”

“Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, it could be a touching rendition of the song. Maybe even a medley. We could start with _Goodbye Love_ and then move into a dance break during—”

Big Red doesn’t get to finish the sentence because Ricky tackles him and pushes his head under the water. They fight like that until they’re exhausted and laughing, and then spend a while lazing around the deep end just floating or doing flips off the diving board that Big Red’s mom would probably castrate them for.

When they finally lift themselves out of the pool, the clock reads 7:06 and Ricky hasn’t thought about EJ once. Big Red goes to find Mia, and Ricky towels himself off by their chairs. When Red comes back, he has four teenage girls in tow and an apologetic look on his face.

“Before you get mad, Mrs. Cooper’s van broke down, so she can’t take the girls to Camille’s house for the sleepover. I’ve only got five seats in the car, so I don’t have room for everyone unless you wanna ride in the trunk.”

“I can sit on your lap, Ricky,” Mia pipes up from behind her brother. Big Red rolls his eyes and pushes her away.

“I swear I’ll come right back after I drop them off,” Big Red tells him. “Twenty minutes tops.”

Ricky just slaps Big Red on the back and moves to sit on the curb. “It’s fine, dude. Just text me when you’re on your way back.”

Red gives him a grateful smile before shepherding all of Mia’s friends into his car. They drive off, leaving Ricky to kill twenty minutes with the Animal Crossing app Nini downloaded on his phone. He loses track of time after a while before checking the time and seeing that thirty minutes have already passed. He texts Big Red and asks if he’s on his way yet, but his phone dies right after the message sends.

“Well shit,” Ricky mumbles and slips his phone into the pocket of his sweatshirt. The temperature had begun to drop as the sun set, and the wind was starting up too. Ricky sits back on the curb and braces his hands on the cement, stretching his legs out in front of him. He closes his eyes and contemplates whether it’s worth it to start the walk back to his house, but he thinks he can afford to spend a few more moments of quiet here.

Ricky was born in a cicada summer, or at least that what’s his mom used to tell him. The cicadas only come above ground every 17 years and then spend the entire summer droning. He’s heard them before when his parents used to take him camping in Colorado, but they’ve never been this loud in New Mexico. He kind of likes it—their buzzing matching the constant thrum of anxiety in his chest. Makes him feel less alone.

“Need a ride?” a voice calls out, interrupting his musing. Ricky kind of knows who it is before he recognizes the voice because there’s only one person who would be leaving the pool this late. “Cause it kind of looks like you’re stranded here.”

“Yeah,” Ricky replies honestly because it feels pointless to deny how this night is going to end.

EJ lifts himself onto the hood of his white Jeep (because what other car would EJ own than a white Jeep?) and looks down at Ricky where he’s sitting on the curb. His eyes sweep over Ricky’s body and then finally meet his eyes. “What are you still doing here, anyway?”

Ricky sighs. “Big Red had to take all his sister’s friends to some sleepover and was supposed to pick me up when he was done. That was like, 45 minutes ago, though, and my phone died, so…” he trails off. 

"So,” EJ echoes, drawing the word out and quirking his lips up into a smile.

Ricky levels his gaze. “I’m not hooking up with you in your Jeep. The thought of it actually turns me off.”

EJ throws a hand over his chest in mock offense. “Girls love my car. Windows down, some Drake playing, wind in our hair. Easy.”

“I’m not a girl,” Ricky responds, his voice quieter than before.

“I know,” EJ says. “Thank fucking god for that, too.”

Ricky stares at EJ, studies the line of his body as he lounges against the hood of his car. He’s right in front of Ricky, everything on display, yet he feels like he can’t really see EJ at all. He’s got a smirk painted on like a mask, and under the confidence he carries in his shoulders, he looks tense. “What are you, then? Bisexual? Experimenting?”

EJ snorts. “I think maybe you should be asking yourself that question, Bowen,” he pauses, and after a second adds, “I don’t like labels. I just like people. And fucking.”

“No labels? So what, we aren’t boyfriends now after you blew me?” Ricky’s not sure where the question comes from, joking and insecure at the same time. He doesn’t want to date EJ, not really. He kind of just wants to rile him up and then maybe suck him off the hood of his stupid fucking Jeep.

“Want me to take you out to dinner at the country club first, or are you gonna stop being pouty and come over here already?” EJ challenges.

“I’m not being pouty,” Ricky mumbles under his breath, but he stands up and walks over to EJ anyways. He stands in front of EJ where he’s sat up on the car and steps into the v of his legs. EJ’s hands come to rest on his waist, and he just stares at Ricky for a moment, studies the look on his face.

“What?” Ricky asks, unsettled by his gaze.

“Your nose is kind of crooked,” EJ says plainly.

Ricky raises his eyebrows. “If you’re gonna insult me, I’m leaving.”

EJ’s hands grip his waist tighter. “Sorry,” he says, and then looks away. “I’m sorry. I don’t really—I don’t really know how to do this without being mean to you.”

“Do what?” Ricky asks. “What is _this_ , EJ? Cause I think we better make it clear that this doesn’t mean anything.”

“Right,” EJ says after a moment, his jaw set. “We agree then. No more talking.”

Ricky puts a hand on the back of EJ’s neck, his fingers finding the soft hair there, and starts to pull his head forward. Ricky’s eyes flick down to EJ’s lips, and he knows that EJ’s eyes follow the movement. Neither of them make a move—the moment suspended in time.

“I don’t kiss,” EJ says, his voice hoarse. “Too many feelings.”

Ricky doesn’t take his eyes off EJ’s lips. He kind of wants to bite them between his teeth, make EJ bleed. “Yeah, okay,” he whispers back. Ricky hesitates, just for a second, before moving his other hand onto EJ’s thigh. He wants to be in control, this time, doesn’t like it when EJ has all the power. It scares him to think of what he would do to have EJ’s hands on him again, of how much he’d be willing to give up for that feeling.

Ricky brushes his thumb over the fabric covering EJ’s thigh and feels the hard muscle there. EJ doesn’t move, just breathes out and opens his mouth like he’s going to speak. Before he can, Ricky slips his hand into the waistband of EJ’s swim trunks. They're red and probably a size too small because EJ can’t just let everyone walk around without an invitation to stare at his ass. Ricky’s hand is on EJ’s dick before he can really think about.

EJ makes this noise, choked and in the back of his throat, like he’s surprised. “Fuck, Bowen, didn’t know you had it in you,” EJ says, his voice breathy.

“I thought we said no talking,” Ricky responds, wrapping his fingers around EJ’s length. His fingernails scratch lightly at the skin as he does, and Ricky’s pretty sure he feels a shudder run through EJ’s body.

“Right,” EJ responds, his head falling forward, “no talking.”

Ricky starts moving his hand up and down under EJ’s shorts. He tries to mimic what he does to himself when he jerks off, slow and hard like he does when he wants to make it last. He swipes his thumb over the tip of EJ’s dick and spreads the precum around to make it slicker. Even with the temperature dropping, it’s still warm out, and both of them are sweating. Ricky feels it on the back of his neck and his palms, and EJ is flushed too. He keeps moving his hand in that rhythm, slow, leisurely, like he’s teasing EJ. He wants to make it last, wants to make him work for it. Ricky sometimes comes up to run his fingers along EJ’s balls, but never keeps them there long.

“Can you stop teasing me?” EJ says through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ricky responds lightly, his other hand coming down to rest on EJ’s hip. He pushes him further against the hood of the Jeep while his hand works on EJ’s cock. His hand is slick with sweat and precum. It must be making a mess inside of EJ’s shorts, and that really shouldn’t turn Ricky on so much. He can tell EJ’s close when he starts taking these short, shuddering breaths. It would be easy to bring him over the edge, to tighten his fingers and finish the job, but Ricky doesn’t want to give in that easier.

“What do you want, EJ?” he asks, stilling his hand on EJ’s cock.

“I want to cum, asshole,” EJ says, frustrated, and his hips jerk into Ricky’s hand.

Ricky presses him further onto the metal surface and tightens his fingers. He brings his face within an inch of EJ’s, feels his breath ghost across his face. “Tell me what you want,” Ricky says into the slant line of EJ’s mouth. EJ’s lips are open, his eyes almost closed, and if either of them moved a centimeter forward, their mouths would slot together into a kiss.

EJ’s eyes nearly flutter closed, his chest heaving. “Want to make you feel good,” he says, breath ghosting across Ricky’s lips. “Want to watch you fall apart, Ricky.”

Ricky shivers when EJ says his name and makes a low noise in the back of his throat. “Fuck, EJ, you look so fucking good for me.” He starts moving his hand again, increasing the pressure and speed. EJ shakes under him, hips jerking into his hand automatically. He’s making these low moans, breathy and fast. The parking lot is deserted, but anyone could see them if they walked past the parking lot and looked long enough. The thought of someone watching EJ jerk into his hand, watching EJ fall apart under Ricky’s touch, terrifies him and excites him in equal measure. EJ’s body tenses up, and he braces a hand on the hood of the car. His head falls back while Ricky works him through his orgasm, milking it for longer than he probably should. Eventually, EJ swats his arm lazily and tries to get Ricky to stop, his cock hypersensitive. Ricky pulls his hand out of EJ’s shorts and shakes his hand off in mock-disgust before wiping it on EJ’s tank top.

“Gross,” EJ mumbles. He looks at Ricky through hooded eyes, his body loose. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are dark and he looks so fucking good that Ricky kind of wants to go for round two.

Ricky stands there for a second in front of EJ but doesn’t say anything. He’s painfully hard in his swim trunks, and he’s sure that EJ has noticed. He shifts his weight awkwardly and stares up at EJ. EJ just closes his eyes and tips his head back, looking like the picture of bliss. He looks good in the muted evening light, it softens his jaw, makes him look gentler.

“Do you want to come home with me?” EJ asks, breaking the silence. Ricky stares at him, wide-eyed and pretty sure that his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t be such a virgin, Bowen. Come back to my place tonight.”

The prospect of riding in EJ’s car alone is terrifying. Ricky doesn’t even contemplate what it would be like to walk into his house, to see the place he lives, maybe even his bedroom. _Don’t think about EJ’s bed, Jesus Christ, do NOT think about EJ’s bed,_ he thinks.

“Uh, yeah, okay,” Ricky answers, bringing one hand up to scratch the back of his neck. He walks over to the curb and picks up his bags. He’s almost made it back over to EJ’s car, tells his heart to _stop beating so fucking fast_ about a dozen times, when Big Red pulls into the parking lot. Red cuts across the lot and sidles up next to Ricky, rolling the window down.

“Dude, I’m so sorry. I dropped them off, but then Mia forgot her sleeping bag and I had to go back home and it was this whole fucking ordeal with my mom and—”

“It’s fine,” Ricky says, cutting him. “Don’t worry about it. I uh, found a way to pass the time.”

“Hi Big Red!” EJ calls out brightly from behind him. Ricky cringes at the sound and turns around to look at EJ.

“I’ll—I’ll text you,” Ricky says, but it comes out more like a question. “So, yeah…” he trails off.

EJ’s raises his eyebrows, and his face breaks into a smirk (though a less menacing one than usual). “Looking forward to it. Offer stands anytime.” With that, he jumps off the hood of his car and gets into the driver’s side. Before Ricky can really move, he’s sped off.

Once Ricky’s in the car, Big Red starts grilling him. “What was that about? Are you and EJ friends now? Cause like, why else would you text him? And what was he saying about an offer? Did you guys have plans or something?”

“Relax, Red,” Ricky says, rubbing his hands on his shorts. He’s sweating like crazy and moves to turn the air conditioner higher. “He got off his shift late and was gonna give me a ride. His parents are out of town, so he offered to let me raid his liquor cabinet.”

“Jesus,” Big Red responds, “EJ must be fucking desperate if he’s asking you to come over. No offense, dude,” he adds, glancing over at Ricky.

Ricky lets out a weak laugh and stares out the window. “Yeah, he must be.”

“EJ Caswell and my best man Ricky—unlikely friends,” Big Red ponders as he swerves onto the main street back to Ricky’s house.

 _Yeah,_ Ricky thinks, _pretty fucking unlikely._


End file.
